Merry Christmas Dean
by AngelOfThursday67
Summary: He was four when he received his Sammy. He was thirty-one when he lost his brother to hell.


"Merry Christmas Dean"

He was four when he received his Sammy.

Sammy was delicate and small and precious, and he was his.

He was Dean's and he was Dean's to care for and to protect and to love.

He had little tiny feet, and little tiny hands and he mattered.

It was the first-time Dean knew something mattered.

And it made sense for dad to give him that order.

It made sense for dad to shove Sammy in Dean's arms.

And to say the words,

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can,

and don't look back.

Now Dean.

Go!"

As if Dean, would ever look back.

As if Dean, would ever risk,

Losing his Sammy.

* * *

He was twelve when he received his amulet.

It was meant for his father; it was meant to protect him.

And if neither of those were actually true, it didn't matter, not really.

Because Sammy gave it to Dean, and if Sammy gave it to Dean. It meant Sammy loved Dean.

And trusted him,

And wanted him safe.

It meant that Dean had Sammy's faith.

That Dean

Mattered.

And he never took it off, of course he didn't. he never would.

It was proof.

It was proof that he was important to someone. So why should he?

That was enough to protect him.

That fact that Sammy wanted

Him protected.

* * *

He was twenty two when he lost his Sammy.

It was always scratching at Sammy's skin, under the surface there, just barely there.

Sammy wasn't going to stay.

Not In this life, not for Dean, not for mum and not for dad.

And it didn't make sense, of course it didn't make sense.

For dad to say those words.

And it didn't make sense,

For Sam to walk out the door,

And not look back.

It should matter,

That Dean needed Sam.

But it didn't matter.

That was the first time that Dean knew.

When he received presents,

They didn't stay.

* * *

He was twenty-six when he received his brother again.

It wasn't a present, not really.

It took work.

It took coaxing, it took persuasion, it took guilt.

It took honestly last, because after everything Sam still knew him best.

Even if he was Sam now.

Even if he wasn't Sammy.

"Yes you can"

"Yeah, well I don't want to"

It made sense for Sam to understand and to know and to realise,

That Dean needed him, and Dean needed help.

That this was bigger.

It was more than dad being on a hunting trip and not being home in a few days.

It made sense that Dean would need Sam.

And that Sam would know,

And that he would matter.

And that they would go together.

* * *

He was twenty nine when he received his life back from hell.

Or maybe he was older.

Forty years older.

He didn't know.

How do you measure it when your soul is aged with years and tears, and shreds and torture?

That no one sees,

It took two words to make it real.

It took "Heya Sammy" and he was home and Sam was safe.

And the world had changed and he was back.

It made sense that he was raw and everything was different.

And Sam kept looking at him like he mattered.

It made sense that nothing made sense.

It made sense that Sam would wrap him up in his arms like he'd never let go.

And it made sense for Sam to let go.

Because Dean had gotten his life back, but he hadn't got his soul intact, and he didn't need that.

It made sense for Dean to let go too.

Of everything that,

Mattered.

* * *

He was thirty when he lost the amulet.

They told him he was worthless and somehow he believed them.

It was supposed to protect him, and it was supposed to be his brother's faith.

He wasn't sure if he lost it,

Or it lost

Him.

That didn't make sense

But maybe it didn't matter.

* * *

He was thirty-one when he lost his brother.

It was needed and it was necessary and those were the words he heard his entire life.

From dad and from Sam, and from the small voice inside his head.

But it didn't make sense that Sam chose to leave

Again.

Sam didn't make the same mistake twice.

It didn't make sense that it wasn't a mistake.

Last time it wasn't a mistake.

This time,

It didn't make sense to hear the words "it's okay" because it wasn't.

It didn't make sense.

* * *

He was thirty-one when he lost his life back to hell.

And that made sense.

Because Sam took it, with him.

* * *

End.


End file.
